


Majesty's Mercy

by Sheshaventures



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ambiguous Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Ascians (Final Fantasy XIV), F/M, M/M, Other, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, mild exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-18 21:11:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20198242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheshaventures/pseuds/Sheshaventures
Summary: Sometimes being at his mercy leads to the sweetest of pleasures.





	Majesty's Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> I heard you liked Ascians? Enjoy.

You struggled against the bonds holding you, bands of magic restraining you easily despite your vaunted strength. They do not give, holding your arms at your sides, your legs bound, bent, feet behind you as you lay on your side. Black boots step into your vision, and your eyes move to look up - black pants, black robes, silver adornments, and a face that grins down at you in a sneer. The mask that hides the upper portion is almost skeletal, with six black slots that are angled to peer down at you.

"Trying to escape now, Hero?" it's a gloating statement, he knows you cannot leave. You struggle regardless, as he kneels and trails one claw down the side of your cheek and neck, crossing your collar. His hand dips into your clothing and claws draw soft scrapes down your front. "Come now, we both know my spells are far too much for you," he kneels down, breath skirting over your face, and the volume of his tone drops almost to nonexistence. "Besides, if you hurt yourself you will ruin the pretty scene we have here."

As much as the struggling thrills you, you know he's right. This is not the first time you've done this, after all.

At the ceasing of your struggles, his grin widens, "Good, good. We both know that doing harm to your flesh is _my_ job."

He shreds your clothes with those claws of his, sharpened to a razor's edge for this purpose alone, no doubt. But he takes his time, grin never leaving his face as each stroke of his arms along your body hooks more fabric, and you shiver not just at your nakedness but at the sound as he divests you of all that covers you. He, however, remains fully clothed.

When you open your mouth to complain about this he slips two of those claws inside, toying with your tongue as a warning. "Do remember that my voice is the only thing I want you to hear, my Hero," he hisses at you. "Unless, of course, you were going to beg for me to toy with you more?"

Your lack of response is telling. You want the teasing to end faster, and you know this pleases him - to have you at his mercy like this, to have you submit like this.

"Good, that is what I like to see. Now, I have been thinking of what sort of torments I should subject you to, but I am feeling merciful today, luckily for you," his voice is oily as it pours over you, claws dragging down your skin but barely touching, reaching down, further and further. He carefully, oh so carefully reaches your most sensitive areas and strokes with the back of one razor claw. The danger of it makes you shudder more than the cool pressure.

"Watching you serves to never be dull, at least," you open your eyes - when had you closed them? - to see that red mask inches from your nose. The heat in his voice, the way he draws out the words, is the only telltale sign he is truly enjoying himself. The way he is so unaffected thrills you further, and he gives another stroke of his claws, two this time.

"To have you in the dirt like this would be fitting, seeing you brought so low," he shifts, voicing the next words hotly, directly into your ear. "But I find myself beset by a different sort of hunger than that."

His hand withdraws and he stands, spinning, and in a whirl of color and blur of vision he has you held upright - your arms above your head and bound, legs held apart and pressed back against his lower body. His robes are soft against your form, the metal adornments a sharp contrast in their chilled hardness. The cold press of his mask touches the side of your head, but you feel his tongue, hot, wet, caress the shell of your ear.

"Much better, this is how I want to see you this time, when you are at my mercy," claws press into your sides, wandering your torso but never reaching where you desire it most. You tense, shivering, _wanting,_ but that too is part of the game.

You're being patient. Gods, you don't want to be, but your patience is finally beginning to be rewarded. You're playing the game exactly right, and the evidence is there in how a faint shiver works its way through his body as he holds you against him. Not of exertion, no, by the way his breath puffs faster at your neck it can only be of hunger, and an appetite that matches yours.

"Submitting yourself so easily to me, you make me want to give you a reward," the heat in the words belies that it is what you both want. "Very well, anything for me to show you more of my power, and how far below me you remain."

Those claws shine crimson, and suddenly the nerves where they wander are set nearly aflame. You arch back against him, groaning, and his chuckle vibrates through your entire body. "Do not settle down on my account, if it is to sing my praises than by all means, give voice to how you feel."

He shivers again, and presses against you, his hardness digging in to your backside as he grinds his hips against yours. "How much do you want this, I wonder?" his claws move close, oh so close to your groin, but hover there, not touching. It takes all you have to not move. "Well, Hero? Tell me how badly you desire this, desire me."

"Please," the words tumble from your lips now that he's finally given you permission. You know exactly what to say, what he craves to hear. "Please, Nabriales, I want, I _need-_" but before you can say more he strokes all six of his claws directly over your arousal. Your head rears back of its' own accord, and you **_scream._**

The pleasure shoots through you, electric, unending, unrelenting. Distantly you hear him laughing in your ear, grinding against you harder in his own pleasure as you fall apart at his hands. It's too much, far too much, and the orgasm that crashes through you is one of the strongest you've ever had. Your vision goes white.

And it continues. And continues. And through your writhing, moaning, _screaming_ you hear his voice, "Did you think I would let you come down before I had my fun? You are sorely mistaken." And you _feel_ his magic working through you, time slowing only for you, each instant an eternity as the pleasure is almost torture.

Still it goes on, you are no longer aware of time, of anything besides Nabriales and his touch, his magic, _him_ as he swamps you with his aether. You're certain you will die, that your heart will give out and it will be the end of you. But that does not come to pass. He works you and works you until, at last, you feel him shudder against you, that sneering mouth biting down on your shoulder as he, too, crests.

The pleasure begins to fade, and you are left limp, pliant putty he may do whatever he wishes with. The bindings release you into his arms, and he lowers both of you down into a bed - when had he moved you? Those claws stroke you again, but this time it's not thrilling, it is comforting.

"You cannot say that I am not a thorough lover, Hero," his voice purrs against you, and you curl close to him. His hands, gloved, holding his claws away, move slowly over your form. His magic rises once more - this time to soothe your nerves that are still sparking from the extended pleasure. When he offers you a glass of cool water, you drink greedily.

"Mm, no, I cannot. But you are mine, and you are the best," the words are broken as they leave you, and you feel his warmth swell where he holds you. Your arrangement is unorthodox, but it is how you both like it. You spend the rest of the night there, together, wrapped up in one another. He begins to speak to you, of magic and sorcery, of other topics you both enjoy, bringing you both back to equilibrium.

Perhaps next time he will allow himself to be at your mercy? Time will tell, and you cannot help but smile, because he commands that.

**Author's Note:**

> We need more minor Ascian content.


End file.
